Don't Turn Around
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: Fear: An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
1. Chapter 1

I swayed my hips, wordlessly mouthing the lyrics as the tune controlled my body.

"_Don't mind us we're just spilling our guts-_

_ If this is love I don't want to be loved_

_ You pollute the room with a filthy tongue_

_ Watch me choke it down so I can spit it up."_

Fuck Ryan. That's what Amanda had said. Just literally but not literally.I was strong, I was tough, and I was going to prove that our breakup meant absolutely nothing. Doing the best after a split was definitely a contest and I was going to win.

Strutting into my bathroom I tousled my black hair, adjusting the part so you could still see the bright blue streak. I smeared bright red lipstick on. I was going to look hot. I was going to look so hot, that Ryan would see me, grovel for forgiveness, and I would say no. Probably. If he asked… NO! I'd say no.

"HONEY!" my mom screamed. It wasn't an angry scream, more of a we-live-in-downtown-Gotham-and-you-can-hear-literally-nothing scream.

"Yeah?" I took the crammed staircase two and a time, hopping into the tiny kitchen.

"I'm baking a cake for book club and they're coming in half an hour and I need one more egg and I can't leave the cake and-" but she said it so quickly and in such a panic it was like one enormous word.

"Wait… what? What do you need?" I asked, placing a hand on my hip.

"An egg. One egg. Here, I have a ten. Get one of the little four packs," she grabbed her purse off the chair, fishing around for the acclaimed bill.

"Umm, I'd really rather not…" I murmured, glancing at the time on the microwave. It was 5:45, and being that we had no car, it'd definitely be dark before I got home.

"Just take the main road, you'll be safe," she assured me, "What's on your lips?"

"Uh, lipstick?" I murmured.

"I swear to god… and you're worried about predators?! You're sixteen, who are you trying to seduce, the bums?!" she shook her head as if I'd already sold my body, a thing that honestly isn't that uncommon under Gotham's youth.

"No one!" I wrinkled my nose, "I just like it," not because I need a confidence boost and I'm insecure nope nope nope.

"Whatever, just- here," she tucked the bill into my hand, "And hon?" I turned, my hand hovering over the doorknob, "Stay safe."

"Love you!" I kissed her cheek, before sliding out of our cozy abode, a place full of warm knit quilts that never stopped smelling like soup, into the streets of Downtown Gotham. I honestly must have been as mad as some of the characters you see walking around.

Power walking down the sidewalk, I partook in the local tradition of avoiding eye contact with literally everyone. My apartment emptied into an alley, so it was a relief to get back on the main street. I turned a corner and took about four steps before walking directly into a thick strip of caution tape, nearly tumbling over completely. An enormous crater yawned smack dab in the middle of the road, almost as if something had blown up.

Exactly as if something had blown up.

The main road was no longer an option. I considered going home then and there, but my poor mother was worried sick over cake and I'd rather brave the streets then let her fret alone.

Biting my lip I turned around, stepping into the nearest side street. I was at fifth and main, so the marketplace was only seventeen blocks away. If I just kept my head down and hurried as fast as I could…

An enormous crash interrupted my thought. Glass tinkled around me like rain, shattering on the pavement below. I screamed, covering my head and the back of my neck with my arms. Running under the fire escape I hesitantly peered out.

Batman, in all his black armored glory, flung himself out the third story window, some goon in his gloved grip. They tumbled onto the balcony, rolling this way and that. I watched in a stunned silence, gazing through the breaks in the grating. Batman gripped the man's shirt, pushing him against the railing.

"WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE EXPLOSIVES?" his voice was like gravel. The man turned in fear and I caught a glimpse of a rubber clown mask. One of the Joker's thugs.

"I- I don't know! Honestly! He just sent me to plant the first ones I sweAREeeEE ee EE!" he was tossed over the side, the ground rushing forward to quickly to comprehend. The blur of a man lingered a couple feet above my head before being yanked up again.

"WHERE ARE THEY!?"

"FINE! Fine I'll tell you!" his voice was a panicked rasp, "They're- right- _here_!" I took a moment to comprehend what he was saying before the wall blew apart, shards of rubble, brick, and who knows what else crumbling down the side of the building. A wave of heat hit like a fist, throwing me into the middle of the alley. A bit disoriented but unharmed I blinked, waving smoke out of my eyes. Coughing I slipped onto my stomach, nestling my chin into my chest. I could have died… over an egg. An egg! I almost laughed out loud. Haha Gotham you silly girl, you almost got me again. I started to struggle to my feet when a low creaking blanketed over the side street. Confused, I listened harder, trying to decipher the undead moan. Realization hit like a brick. I whipped around as the fire escape gave one final shake, before slowly tilting towards me. I tried to get up but glass still covered the ground like freshly fallen snow, and my hand immediately gave out under me as the shards dug in.

My chest tightened as a series of twangs filled the air, rapid fire one after the other. The supports snapped and before I could scream a mass of metal came crashing down.

**She's not dead- I promise. This is just the first misstep in a big misadventure for this mischievous girl. I lied- she's not mischievous I just wanted another mis word. I'm thinking maybe 10 chapters, but I haven't quite mapped it all out yet. I love you, you're beautiful! Until next chapter,**

_**Zenith Aquilla**_


	2. Chapter 2

I moaned, trying to turn over. A tiny whimper escaped my lips. A gnarled metal rod pinned my shirt in place, cutting deep into my skin. Blood ran down the cut in tiny streams, arcing across my stomach and pooling on the ground. My head and shoulders stuck out of the wreck, but the rest of my body was hopelessly entangled under the twisted trap. Everything hurt- my head. My side. I was buzzing with a dull ache, the pain keeping me conscious. My nerves screamed 'Stay awake Allison!' but everything else was completely prepared to give up. You couldn't beat Gotham, it wasn't an option. If you're smart you can get out before it beats you.

A curious shuffling echoed across the brick walls, collapsing over the cluttered floor. _Just like me_, I mused. I got a bit louder and a bit closer, until a pair of brown dress shoes sat right in front of my face. I couldn't turn my head, so I just kept staring until something clicked.

"Sir…" I whimpered, my voice so tiny it didn't even sound like me, "Please."

His knees bent, a charcoal gray suit coming into sight. As he crouched a sliver of ankle appeared, black socks contrasting a streak of pale skin. He wrapped long fingers around the structure, heaving with all his strength. I cried out as the rod tore out of my skin, a fresh wave of blood gushing out. He trembled slightly, struggling to keep it erect. I scrambled out, crawling on my elbows before collapsing a safe distance away. He left his position, wiping soot stained hands on a handkerchief.

I opened my mouth to thank him but I began to cough, destroying my already raw throat. We stood for a couple moments, him silently waiting for me to finish. I caught my breath, filling my lungs with the sweet city air.

"T-thank you sir," I gasped, turning to face my savior for the first time. Starting at those brown leather shoes, I worked my way over his suit to a pair of defined cheekbones, rectangular glasses… dark.. hair.

I blanched, pulling myself to my feet. My knees immediately buckled under me, sending me sprawling back into the dirt and broken glass.

"My reputation precedes me," he murmured, raising one, amused eyebrow. I pulled myself into a sitting position, trying to control my breathing.

"I'm just… I was," I bit my lips. I had to say _something_, anything, "I'm sorry."

"Forgive me for asking but you seem… scared," it wasn't a question.

"I'll just be going I'm really sorry," I squeaked, before realizing for the second time that I could not physically lift myself off the ground. I needed to get out of there, I can't, I couldn't just, I had been worried about the petty thieves, the homeless. Now Doctor Jonathon Crane stared down at me coldly. He watched as I gripped the wall, struggled to my feet, before my foot connected with a pool of oil and I was once more sent sprawling.

"Allow me," he swept forward, and I physically flinched away. Ignoring my desperation he looped his arms under mine, slowly pulling me upright.

"T-thank you," I whispered.

"Why are you out so late? Alone?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"I- eggs. For my mom," I breathed.

"The market's most likely closed," his expression was still carefully neutral, "I'd recommend going home."

"Th-thank you!" I gasped, relief flooding over me. He was letting me go. I was going home.

He released his grip on my arm carefully, taking a cursory step back. I wobbled for a moment before regaining my footing. Not a second after I turned around an iron grip wrapped around my bicep, fingers digging into my flesh.

"This might pinch a bit," he whispered and pain flooded my arm. I gaped down at the syringe, and back to his face. He was perfectly calm, almost amused. My brows furrowed as I slid down into his arms. Everything was going fuzzy… who was holding me? My eyelids began to droop. I leaned into the person. Trying to raise my head to see who it was, my chin slumped forward. It was all so heavy. If I just… I need… eggs…

"Mmm?" I raised my head, squinting in the bright light. My head was pounding. I tried to raise my hand to it, but it wouldn't move. Tugging again I started to get frustrated.

"Good. You're awake."

I stiffened. Squinting into the light, a silhouette stepped forward. Delicately wiping his hands on a handkerchief, I blinked in recognition. The same grey suit, now shrouded in a white apron. He stepped over to a small table, pulling gloves over long fingers. Gripping my chin, he forced me to look at him. Defined cheekbones. Rectangular glasses.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I squeezed my eyes closes. Behind my lids, those cold blue eyes still stared deeply into mine. Satisfied he let go, and my head lolled to the side. He stepped over to the wall, fingers running over racks and racks of little black boxes. Selecting one, he carefully applied a strip of masking tape over the top. Reaching behind his ear he uncapped a thick black marker. As he moved away, the block letters sat with a certain finality.

_**ALLISON STERN.**_

__My breathing escalated. I started to get light headed. How did he know my name? How did... he... I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Would you like to see my mask?" I jumped at his voice.

I stared down at my feet, not answering him or even looking at him. Mom had always told me to keep my head down. He was eerily quiet, and when I looked back up, I jumped. His face was gone, shrouded under a burlap sack. Stitches ran across it haphazardly, like he'd sewn it together in a hurry. He raised an oxygen mask to my head. I followed the connected tube with my eyes, ending at a tank of golden liquid. I turned my head stubbornly, but he gripped the back of my neck. He strapped it over my nose and mouth, cold rubber biting into my skin.

"Now Allison," he switched on the tape recorder, moving to the tank, "What are you afraid of?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Subject exhibits specific necrophobia, accompanied with acute acarophobia…"

Next to acarohobia he carefully wrote entomophobia, punctuated with a small question mark. She wasn't due for testing until tomorrow, but the thought still nagged him. Insects or merely the itching variety? She most definitely experienced one. Shoving his pad to the side, he barked instructions into the intercom.

"Transport Subject A of string 13 into testing wing immediately." Acaro or entom? He would discover shortly.

"Sir?" he paced quickly down the hall, trying to out walk the lackey who hurried to keep up, "Sir!" the man tried again, "She isn't due for testing until tomorrow. The concentration could kill her, and you said you wanted her for the final string next Thursday-"

Doctor Crane stopped abruptly, forcing the man to do a one eighty to face him, "I'm sorry," the doctor cocked his head, "I don't believe I asked for your opinion."

"Yes sir, I know sir, but-" he screamed, seconds to late as Jonathon slammed a capsule into the man's head. The gas released and he fell to his knees, swatting desperately at the air and shrieking as the Doctor hurried to the testing wing.

"Ms. Stern," he mused, checking the information on his clipboard. She was barely conscious, half opened eyes heavily sweeping the floor. Cupping her chin in his gloved hands he searched her face, but she was nearly gone. Drugs and exhaustion destroying another human being. She'd be unusable by Thursday anyway. One last test to damper his curiosity, and he'd be done.

Pulling his mask over his head, he fitted hers over her mouth. Turning the dial on the tank he watched her face intently. Acaro or entom acaro or entom…

"Hello?" she shot upright, the haze leaving her eyes. He hadn't bothered to strap her in beyond her waist, her stupor draining any threat she could have caused.

"D-doctor Crane?" she called, seeming to look right through him. He grabbed the pad of paper, excitedly scribbling down his findings, "Are you there?" she started shaking, desperately searching the darkness. Tears rolled down her cheeks, "Doctor?" she whispered.

Nearly giddy the doctor pulled the tape recorder close to his mouth, "Subject exhibits severe athazagoraphobia, amplified by the new string of toxin," he whispered excitedly. She'd collapsed in on herself, sobs wracking her delicate frame. Though it wasn't the desired result, the product of string 13 was fascinating. Did it induce athazagoraphobia or were they simply her personal results? New testing would continue immediately. Switching off the tank he pulled off his mask, a wide grin stretched across his face. He removed hers, slipping the elastic strand off of her head. She breathed in deeply, blinking up at him. She was lucid. Joy.

"W-what happened?" she hadn't stopped shaking. He considered ignoring her, but the excitement was too much not to share.

"Severe athazagoraphobia," he grinned, but his expression clouded at her confused look, "Fear of abandonment," he explained coldly, unable to tolerate her idiocy, "So severe, in fact, that you were practically crying at the thought of my leave," he smirked at her distaste. Why was she lucid? Something in this string must have counteracted the last results, serving as an antidote. Clearly unacceptable.

The room was suddenly bathed in red, an alarm blaring in the distance. Allison flinched hard, the effect of the toxins clearly not worn off. She began tugging desperately at the restraint around her waist, terror making her hands fumble.

"Sir!" a man ran in, "The police are here, we don't know about Bats," he huffed.

"Evacuate the building," he was suddenly all business, "Dispose of all tests and subjects. Load up the main strings. I'll be out in ten minutes,"

"We might not have ten minutes," the man was still breathing hard from his run.

"GO!" the Doctor barked.

"No!" a small cry echoed across the room, "Don't leave me…" the athazagoraphobia was still in full effect.

Jonathon whipped around, having forgotten about his patient. Quickly running over a variety of syringes he gripped one with practiced fingers. Walking over he pressed the needle directly into her neck. She screamed, squeezing her eyes closed. She kicked, clawing desperately at her restraints.

"What was…?" the man furrowed his brow.

"A concentrated dose," he wiped the needle on his handkerchief. She has ten minutes… fifteen tops."

The man nodded, hurrying after his boss. Glancing back his eyes flickered over thegirl once more before downing the lights. It was hilarious, honestly. A fear of abandonment so strong she didn't want _him _to leave? The man drugging, killing her? She let out a small noise as the room faded to black and he slammed the door.

**Okay so I was on hiatus for so long, I forgot where I was going with this. I suppose I'll make up something new, and you'll have to try and enjoy it just as much. If you have any ideas, or just want to make my day, leave a review! If reviews aren't really your style PM me with your feedback. I appreciate anything. Also if you have any favorite characters you want me to write in or even an OC of your own, like I said I don't have a lot of direction right now. Thanks for reading and I'll see you next chapter! With love, Zenith Aquilla.**


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